


Rainbow Fences

by childhoodlight



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childhoodlight/pseuds/childhoodlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short character study of Emma Swan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainbow Fences

**Author's Note:**

> Emma Swan character study. There are currently very vague ties to the particular world of OUAT but this is very much based on her character and her childhood. Might be expanded.

November, dearest November, there is a blue baby in the snow.

She is breathing in the cold air. Eyes made of green and brown forests do not focus anywhere. Perhaps her eyes were blue, come to think of it, like November, for many babes are born with blue, blue eyes. Sentenced to naiveté. This city is dark and grey, made of concrete and poor families and dirt. This could be a beautiful city, of course, and it supposedly is. Perhaps it depends on who is looking. The city is dark and grey, and blue, innocent eyes darken by the minute.

Sweetest, November, the blue babe is alone in the snow. Whatever shall you do about it? You are cold and cruel with your winds and rain and darkness. And the child is alone, for her mother abandoned her, like so many other babes. _Orphan blue_ , whispers the wind. _Let's see what life has in store for you._

Eventually, the eyes of the child turn forest green, as if the seasons forgot their relations to each other and swapped places. _November blue, the colour of her eyes is now stolen from you_. Now they shall be green with envy. Fitting, isn't?

Anyhow, the babe is found in the snow, and soon her eyes are green like enchanted forests. _Where did she go?_ asks November, for November is not yet over, and so her power remains. Twelve days, the babe spent in the snow, with blue eyes and lips, before she was found. Twelve days. 

And the foster home took her in. 

November, dearest, you are coming to an end. The blue orphan is no longer yours. Say your goodbyes. 

 

**Touch**

 

The child is small with fair, fair skin. It glows in the light of the dull but dangerous and beautiful city in which they live. The fences are painted in different colours, like rainbows. Forest green eyes and light skin accompanied by hair the shade of a tired and yellow sun. Perhaps the child belongs to the world, whatever one wants to define the world as. Perhaps that is her real home. The children play in the light of the rainbow fences, and the days pass. 

The children aren't starved per se, but they are starved in a way you cannot ever imagine. But no, technically they are not starved. The huge pot is placed before them all, and each child has a spoon in one hand.  _Dinner is served._ You see, they all shared the same big pot of food, because water is expensive so there cannot be too many dishes. Why not just let the children share plate? The one who eats the quickest, gets the most. Too slow? Then you mustn't be very hungry to begin with, little baby. She eats and eats and eats, and licks the spoon clean. Maybe this is love. Being fed, in any way possible. 

When someone touches her, she almost flinches. Green hazel eyes, too young to understand that  _touch_ is a way of surviving. Touching is intimacy and the energy to let skin meet skin. Touch can be cruel, she has learnt that, and touch can be absent. It becomes hard to perceive oneself if one goes about life too long without being touched. Like a dream. Or perhaps, a nightmare. But when someone touches her, she flinches. Yet she craves it.Night falls in the city and the children are off to bed. Small beating hearts, all gathered in the same sleeping quarters. _Let’s fall asleep and dream of rainbow fences and our own plates! Let’s escape into a world where our toys start breathing and living, and love us. Let’s go to the park and do the dishes in running water from a tree where there are lollipops and a children's book that we can read before falling asleep._

Look at me, her eyes beg to everyone. By looking at me, you are confirming my existence. Look at me, and it shall feel as if you placed a hand on my cheek and forced me to look into your eyes. Look at me, grace me with your eyes upon me, grace me with your acknowledgement, and I shall be reassured that yes, I am my own person, and I am my own part of this house in which we, the orphans, live. When you look at me, whoever you are, it is as if my very skin can feel the warmth of your eyes upon it. 

 

**xxxx**

 

Lilies in the white snow

_ils sont malplacé_

Lilies on my doorstep as an apology from the world. There’s a card attached, reading _sorry for your loss_

What loss? What did she lose?  
  
She owns  _nothing_

No things, no home, no family, no ties 

no eyes mirroring hers

no  _blood_  

 **xxxx**    **Deals**

 

There are many ways of looking at what happens next. All right? There are always different sides to the same story, and do not forget that.

"Hello, little child."

"Hi." 

"Do you want to make a deal?"

"A deal?" says the child, "what do you mean?"

"We have love. Do you want love?"

The child nods.

"Very well then. Let's make a deal."

"We have love, and you want it. Let us be your parents. We have spent time, time, time trying to conceive but Eva is ill and her womb is toxic. But she has all this love with no child on the receiving end. Do you want to be that child, dear?"

The child nods. What is love? What is this? They look nice. They are looking at her, giving her attention and she basks in the feeling. She would nod yes to anything if it meant this.

"Very well. It's a deal."

They don't shake hands. They sign papers and pay money and take her out to a restaurant where she can eat on her own plate. She finishes the meal in two minutes, anyways.

 _Baby blue_ , whispers November as a reminder, but no one is listening. _Don't you dare forget who spent the first twelve days of life with you._

Who? 

 


End file.
